SCP-2317
by TheNewSlenderMan
Summary: { Subject was captured just outside of Brooklyn, New York. [...] The subject showed high levels of paranormal abilities and was immediately detained. } One thing did catch his eye, a little sentence scribbled in the corner of the page in blue ink. { It likes to be called Alfred }
1. Revision

The walls, floors and ceiling were all a brilliant shade of white, only further illuminated by the strong florescent bulbs overhead that gave off a constant high-pitched whine. The soft thud of footsteps echoed off of the walls, alerting every guard stationed next to each nook, cranny and door that somebody was approaching.

A guard approached the owner for the footsteps when he reached the elevator to the second floor.

"Please state your name and rank." The guard blocked his access to the elevator, his hand held on his gun.

The man hummed and fished out his ID card, holding it up between two gloved fingers. "Dr. Ivan Braginsky, Class 5. I need to be taken to the fifth floor." Despite being such a large man, his voice was soft and trailed off into a small titter as he was done speaking.

The guard glanced down at the ID, then nodded and stepped aside, opening up a control panel and punching in a 9 digit code. "Right this way, sir." The door opened and Ivan was accompanied inside, watching as the guard inserted a key into a slot, turned it to the right, then pressed a button located inside of a different control panel, this one several inches above the first.

These protocols were necessary, the higher the level, the more dangerous the creature. On this first floor you had your standard possessed dolls, non-infectious diseases, mischievous sprites. The things that were more of a nuisance than anything.

But then you reached the 'upper' floors, where the shadowmen and bed crawlers and demons resided.

There was a tick, a chime and the elevator began to descend; the lower they went, the higher the number ticked to.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5-_

_'Ding.'_

The elevator opened and Dr. Braginsky nodded, giving the guard a soft smile, before leaving the elevator, pulling up his clipboard and swiping his tongue across his lips as he began to read.


	2. Introduction

_**Special Containment Procedures: **__SCP-2317 is to be kept in a 12m x 12m room constructed of steel. Three armed guards must be on watch at all times. Strong hormonal scents such as body odor may trigger SCP-2317, all personnel entering the container must wear base-issued deodorant as not to set off a reaction. A fresh supply of oxygen from the outside must be continuously circled into SCP-2317's containment cell, in case of a base-wide power outage, backup generators are in affect. It is crucial to avoid SCP-2317 from feeling claustrophobic [see incident SCP-2317-2b]_

Curiously Dr. Braginsky flipped through the pages, stopping on the incident report. It seemed to have been an experiment, they began to circulate the air through a filtration system, then pumped it back into the subjects room. The subject sensed the change immediately and began to act erratically, hyperventilating, screaming and throwing itself against the wall, all the while begging to be let out, serious damage was sustained to itself and four guards who attempted to sedate it.

With a hum of interest, he returned back to the Procedures.

_Any and all personnel coming into contact, direct or indirect, with SCP-2317 must wear base-designated goggles. Any personnel entering SCP-2317's holding cell and caught without the designated goggles will trigger a containment breach._

Dr. Braginsky rounded a corner, swiping his tongue over the pad of his thumb and flipping the page. He'd been debriefed about the subject, but it was good to go over the case file before coming into direct contact. He began to skim through the description, stopping to read any sections that he deemed as important. Humanoid appearance, eating pattern (a required dose of semen to be ingested orally each morning at 05:00- though also a burger or two a day, as per requested- it went on to mention that the burgers had absolutely no benefits at all, SCP-2317 just "liked the taste"), etc.

_Subject was captured just outside of Brooklyn, New York. Complaints about an unusually high number of missing persons caught the attention of the SCP foundation and specialists were sent out to find the source. The trail led to an abandoned apartment complex, where nearly 3/4ths of the missing persons were found, some were dead, and some were [DATA EXPUNGED]. The subject showed high levels of paranormal abilities and was immediately detained. _

One thing did catch his eye, a little sentence scribbled in the corner of the page in blue ink.

_It likes to be called Alfred_

Dr. Braginsky reached the holding cell, looking at two guards stationed outside; their guns perched at the ready position. The closest guard put up his hand in a 'halt' and stepped forward, first looking at the badge pinned to the Doctor's chest, then began to frisk him, running his hands down his the large man's sides, feeling for any hidden weapons.

"Clear."

A gesture was given to the guard at stand by the door whom nodded in return and withdrew a small card, pushing it into a slot on the door. There was a serious of clicking noises, then a strong whoosh of air as the area inside depressurized.

The room inside was bare; every inch was white, save for the outline of two doors on either side of the room. Stationed at the opposite door were different guards, each with thick goggles that covered a good top portion of their face.

Doctor Braginsky heard the clicking resound of the door closing behind him and stepped forward. Once again he was given the signal to stop, before the finger pointed to a shelf next to him. "Secure the goggles. It's protocol, sir."

The Doctor gave him a soft smile, then a, "of course, of course." He wasn't upset at being told what to do in this situation; it was for his own safety, after all. He carefully took the contraption off of the shelf and inspected it for a second, before slipping it on. The inside of it seemed to be made up of a series of mirrors, bouncing the image along several times before it actually relayed back to Ivan's eyes. He had to avoid direct eye contact with the subject, 'lest some…complications come up.

A guard came over, securely fastening it, clicking several parts in, before stepping back.

"All clear, sir. Two guards will be stationed outside and surveillance is on, you have nothing to worry about." The guard stepped back to the door, slipping a card into a slot, before the second guard did the same thing. Another series of clicking and turns before that door opened.

Ivan stepped inside, looking around the room, before allowing his eyes to settle on the young man situated in the middle of the room. A gentle smile pulled at Dr. Braginsky's lips and his voice came out with that soft, neutral edge that he, as a doctor, had perfected.

"Hello, SCP- 2317."


	3. Perversion

_**Exposure: **__SCP-2317 has the ability to make anyone who looks at it directly to fall in love. Subjects who were exposed to SCP-2317 directly, tend to show symptoms of hyper sexuality and nirvana. If left with SCP-2317, they will ignore their physical needs for food, water and sleep, spending all of their time pleasing SCP-2317. In experiments where subjects were left with SCP-2317 without any intervention, there was a mortality rate of 85%. Deaths occurred either by dehydration, malnutrition or in certain cases a brain hemorrhage. On a very rare occasion, SCP-2317 will become bored with the subject and simply ask them to kill themselves (when this happens, the lethality rate becomes 100%)_

Dr. Braginsky looked up from his clipboard, watching SCP-2317 from where it sat on the bed_. It_ was definitely a _he_. Ivan took a second to just sort of study the creature through those mirror-goggles, getting a good look at him. He was humanoid in appearance, no abnormalities he could see and exceptionally…plain. Well, not plain, while SCP-2317 was attractive, he was nothing to issue a wonder of the world. He didn't have a face (or body for that matter) that he'd remember if passing by on the train.

"SCP-2317, I am Doctor Braginsky, I will be taking your case from here on out," Ivan murmured, pulling a chair up from the corner of the room and taking a seat, smiling pleasantly over to the creature sitting on the bed. He looked barely out of high school – but, Ivan noted from the case study, the monster had been brought into the SCP-foundation in the early 1930s, the creature was no doubt much, _much_ older than he appeared.

The creature shifted a bit, then leaned forward, propping his chin on his palm and letting his knees fall open, showing off his nude form. "SCP-2317 is so formal… I prefer the name Alfred~"

Ivan was unfazed.

"Calling you that would be incredibly unprofessional of me, SCP-2317," Ivan replied with that soft smile of his, crossing one leg over the other.

The doctor took a second to look over SCP-2317's bed, noting that besides the sheet and pillow, all that he owned seemed to be books. Upon closer inspection he realized that they were all sexual based, even the one situated face-down on the creature's knee.

"Fifty Shades of Grey?" Dr. Braginsky mused, looking back up to SCP-2317, his smile growing.

SCP-23127 met that smile with a small grin of his own, closing the book and setting it aside. "It's something to do, I didn't pick it out, the staff gave it to me."

Ivan allowed himself to chuckle, before turning back to his notepad, flipping through the special accommodations page. It mentioned that SCP-2317 was allowed to request books and could keep up to five at a time in his room (it also made a mention that he insisted only to be given novels with graphic depictions of sexual acts "the kinkier" it quoted, "the better").

"Now, how have you been feeling lately?" Ivan questioned, flipping to a blank page and holding his pen at the ready, watching SCP-2317 with that same soft, absolutely fake smile that he used with everybody.

"Your badge says you're a class 5."

The creature didn't answer his question, instead asking one of his own, leaning forward and studying Ivan with furrowed eyebrows.

"Please answer my question, SCP-2317." Ivan's smile stayed constant, though his grip on the pen tightened a bit. He didn't like being ignored- when he asked a question, he wanted it to be answered. It was a control thing, really. He liked being in control.

"The last doctor's badge only said 2. Does that mean you're a lower or higher class than her?"

Ivan let out a deep breath through his nose, the corners of his lips twitched just for a second, but he managed to keep his smile intact. It would be unprofessional to show his aggravation to the "client". "If you won't cooperate then I will have to end the session and confiscate your books until you've decided to behave."

SCP-2317's lips pulled down into a little pout and he leaned back, instinctively pressing a hand to the book he had just set aside. "I was just curious! Just one question- then I'll cooperate all you want! No foolin'."

Ivan sighed and leaned back in the chair, earning a creak of protest before crossing one leg over the other. "Fine." Ivan closed his eyes just for a moment, before returning that steady stare to SCP-2317.  
"Rank goes up by number. Therefore, as a 5, I am of higher rank than your last doctor." Ivan could feel his lips twitch upwards into a smug grin before he forced it off his face.

SCP-2317 caught that grin, however brief it may have been, and leaned forward, his eyes wide and his own lips pulling into a very noticeable smile. "Really?" His voice was nothing short of admiration. "Wow! You must have so much power then! I bet you could do practically anything you wanted~ Total control."

Ivan knew what SCP-2317 was doing, he was playing into that pride that Ivan had attempted to hide… and Ivan let him do that. He loved power, he loved control and he definitely loved to show it off.

"Da, da," he commented off handedly, giving a small wave of his hand and leaning back, "I am one of the head people in this specific facility… I have control of a lot of things, what comes in, what goes out."

SCP-2317 had gotten up during Ivan's little spiel, approaching the man with a soft smile and half lidded eyes. Ivan was ready, his hand gripping onto a safety control and his thumb pressing to the button, not hard enough to trigger the alarm- it was more of a warning to SCP-2317.

The creature seemed to understand, staying where he was and changing that lecherous smile into a soft one. "I've been feeling okay… Kind of hungry more than usual- I really wish they'd feed me more." It seemed to Ivan that SCP-2317 understood he was no-nonsense.

Ivan smiled, keeping his hand on the trigger and lifting up his pen, beginning to jot down what SCP-2317 had said. "More semen?"

"No, hamburgers- maybe spice it up- change the cheese on it, I'm getting sort of sick of the flavor they've been giving me…Provolone instead of American? Maybe different fries, Texas-cut is getting kind of dull."

SCP-2317 didn't seem to show any signs that he were ready to attack Ivan or do anything squirrely, so the doctor relaxed.

This proved to be a terrible choice.

As soon as Ivan's thumb slipped off the trigger it was knocked out of his hand, swept clear across the floor. SCP-2317 reached up and, with what seemed only take a flick of his wrists, (ridiculous compared to the lengthy time it took to put the damned thing on), unfastened the goggles and pushed them off of Ivan's head.

The doctor felt his breath catch in his throat as he got a clear look at SCP-2317.

He was _beautiful_.

No words could describe the stunning creature standing in front of him. Everything was perfect; from his golden skin, to that sun-bleached hair. His eyes were as clear as the sky and his teeth as bright as the sun. What he once regarded as a monster now only served as the image of an angel. What he was seeing was perfection.

He felt a moment of serenity, everything was calm, quiet, the only noise that was made was his own voice, speaking that perfect name, for that perfect angel, "Alfred."

Then the sirens.

They were blasting, screeching from the overhead speakers, the door opened and ten guards filed in, six of them pointing their guns at Alfred, four of them hauling Ivan away from his angel. Orders were being screamed, but the words were lost on Ivan.

Everything was a blur, a muffle; all that was clear was his angel, standing there, totally still despite the guns and the screaming and the chaos. Slowly, oh so slowly, the angel's lips drew into a soft, knowing smile.


End file.
